Excuse me, but may I have your name?
by that-was-tedious
Summary: University!Fic. Sherlock had been captured by this surprisingly intelligent man for two months and three weeks now. So why didn't he even have his name yet? M rating will be explained.
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock had never planned for anything like this to happen. He'd promised himself when he had started university that he would ignore everything, and well most importantly everyone. He had planned to let the world pass by, whilst he did his experiments, and did the minimal amount of studying he needed to get by. But that promise to himself had all gone downhill exactly two months and three weeks ago, and he'd been distracted from his work ever since. It had become completely omitted; he needed to stop thinking of him, needed to delete him. But he found to his annoyance this was basically impossible.

A 19 year old Sherlock sat in the corner of the pub, for the fourth time this week, swirling the remainder of his beer around the bottom of his pint glass. A drink he'd only become familiar with as of lately, he didn't particularly enjoy it but he had to buy something if he wanted to sit in here. He didn't want everyone to think him weirder than they already did. His eyes were focused on the man at the bar; they were always focused on the man in question. The man in question being the only reason he came to this dive in the first place. He, the man, was with his friends, people who he obviously knew well. Sherlock had become captured by the man exactly two months and three weeks ago. He knew how he held himself around people he knew, around people he didn't know quite as well. How he acted around certain people, how he acted around men and how he acted around women. How long it took him to drink his pint, how long he stayed in the pub for before retiring home to bed. He knew exactly which days he would come along, and which days he would stay well away. The course he was currently on, how much sleep he'd had the night before, if he'd been in bed with anyone the night before. He knew just what made him smile that heart melting smile of his, what made him upset, angry, annoyed, and just about every other emotion under the sun. But possibly the most important detail he didn't know yet was the man's name. He thought it'd be the easiest piece of data he could retrieve, hear it in a conversation, or hear it being shouted over the bar by one of his friends. But no, not once did he hear the man's name uttered, and it was beginning to grate on Sherlock.

He never once dared to actually speak to the man; he thought the 'freak' title would rub off by the time he left school. But it had carried on, it had stuck. The university soon began to refer to him by the cruel nickname, rather than his actual name. Although John was three years ahead of him he would have inevitably heard the nickname, the whole university knew not to go near Sherlock Holmes. So nobody ever did, he was completely fine with this arrangement. He didn't want to have to listen to people's rambles, their problems; he didn't want and was not going to pretend he was something he wasn't in a fruitless attempt of boosting his reputation. This was all until this man, this stupid, perfect, arse of a man. Sherlock hated him.

John was in the pub for the fourth time in a week. The pressure of final exams getting to him, and instead of actually sitting down and studying like he was supposed to be doing he decided to go to the pub every night, and get completely and utterly wrecked. He could feel himself being watched, eyes burning into his back. Oh, he knew exactly who it was. It was Sherlock Holmes, otherwise known as 'freak'. John's opinion differed completely to everyone else's, he took quite a liking to the man, or rather boy he was only 19 still. As much as John denied being bisexual to anybody that happened to ask. He found himself being rather attracted to Sherlock. The dark curls contrasting against porcelain skin. The resplendent cold calculating eyes, the slender lines of his body, the way he dressed, it was rather dandy, the way his shirt perfectly… oh god. What was John saying? He was fucking attracted to the man, it was unequivocal. He had been tantalized by Sherlock for a while now, he becoming the main reason he went home earlier than he used to even when everyone else begged him to stay.

John tried to think of anything else, anybody else. But Sherlock always crept back into his mind; he was in thrall to this strange boy, the thoughts of him only increasing his evident arousal further. If he didn't go home he'd up doing it in a toilet stall. He couldn't be in the boy's presence for more than an hour without thinking about what he'd like to do with him, imagining him screaming his name. Crude, so very crude of him, but he just couldn't help himself. This of course would've been difficult to explain to his friends, he could just imagine the conversation now. ''Oh god I'm sorry. Sarah, Mary, Mike and to anyone else in here who can see. It appears that I have become hard thinking of the boy over there, excuse me whilst I go home and touch myself to get rid of it.'' He cringed, he needed to stop thinking, and he needed to stop thinking now. He was still in the pub; he could still feel the boy staring at him. He contemplated for a while, should he just speak to him? Get in over and done with; this crush of his had been going on for an unreasonable amount of time now. What could go wrong, it would only be a simple 'Hello'. He finally turned around meeting the boy's eyes, for what was probably the first time. Sherlock didn't falter, he didn't immediately avert his eyes, turn away like John had expected. No quite the opposite in fact, he stared back tilting his head in what John could only assume was curiosity. He gave the boy what he hoped a winsome smile, and stood on the spot waiting for a reaction. He could only hope it would be a positive one.

Rated M, for later chapters. Might as well warn everyone now.

Thankyou for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

John stood frozen on the stop, his limbs suddenly incapable of moving. He'd been the one to start this staring match, so obviously he should be the one to finish it. It wasn't exactly arduous to look at Sherlock; he was rather easy on the eye after all.

Sherlock stared back tilting his head to one side in curiosity. His curls tumbling to one side, he would ordinarily brush them away but right now he was far too focused on the man to even notice. The man had initiated this; he could have just been scanning the room contemplating what girl he could take home. But no, his gaze had turned straight onto Sherlock and it had almost been two minutes now. It was beyond any doubt done on purpose.

John finally built up the courage to walk over the pub floor, pushing through the sea of bodies to get to Sherlock. He paused in front of his table, not sure if the younger man would even welcome the socialising. He wasn't exactly known as the most amiable person at this university, but John had wanted to speak to him for such a long time now. It was becoming absurd, how desperate he was getting. He just had to take this chance to speak to the curly haired genius.

Sherlock looked at the man's shoes for a while before running his eyes up his body, giving him a lazy smile all the while.

John felt as though he was under some form of interrogation, Sherlock looked as though he'd already figured everything out about his whole life. Oh god, did that mean Sherlock knew about John's little crush, about how he went home and moaned his name under the cover of darkness. When he knew no one else could hear him, when he knew he was alone. This really only served to make it a lot more sordid than it already was. He'd become real creepy, real quick. He felt his cheeks flush, which would probably already give everything away if he hadn't figured it out already.

Sherlock finally reached the man's face, his cheeks were flushed. Quite adorable really, oh… was he really using the word 'adorable' to describe a fully grown man? Apparently he was, there really was no other way to describe the man in front of him. He stood up to full height, and held out a hand. Common courtesy after all.

''Sherlock Holmes.'' He practically purred, this could finally be his chance to find out his fucking name.

John stared for a moment before realising he should probably take his hand to avoid looking any weirder than he currently looked.

''I-I know.'' He stuttered, mentally kicking himself for suddenly becoming so flustered. ''I mean... I ... don't… I'm not… I mean... Erm… Hi, John Watson.'' He gave Sherlock a small unsure smile, and dropped his hand.

John Watson. It was so ordinary, so uninteresting. So why was Sherlock so struck by the man, well, by John?

''Well, John Watson. What can I do for you?'' Sherlock enjoyed the way the name sounded, felt, on his lips. Satisfying. He slid back down onto his chair, discarding the empty glass. John was much more interesting to look at.

_You, your lips, your hands, your cock, your arse, anything really. _John shook the thoughts from his mind, not really fancying blurting any of those out right now. That would be a god-awful first impression. He took the seat across sliding into it not as gracefully as Sherlock had managed though.

''Nothing, I'd just heard a lot about you and I'm curious. Do me.'' John flushed for the second time, hoping Sherlock wouldn't pick up on the slight euphemism.

''Do you? '' Sherlock raised an eyebrow, before he caught on. ''Oh, oh. You mean deduce you?''

John nodded his head, ignoring the fact Sherlock had took it in that way at first.

''Fine, fine. But beforehand I must tell you these things. No, I have not been stalking you. No I have not googled you, I can tell all the things I'm about to say from the information in front of me right at this moment. And it just happens to be you. '' Sherlock nodded his head before continuing. ''You're not supposed to be here, you're supposed to be in your flat studying for your final exams. You're worried that you're not going to pass, so you come here to drink away those so called worries. You usually come here in search of a girl to take home; you can then shag her instead of studying. Putting it off again, not good you need to pass if you wish to become a doctor. The girl at the bar keeps giving you the eye, although you're not interested. Why? You'd usually jump at the chance with an attractive girl. No, someone else has caught your eye but whom? You keep blushing; messing up your words must be someone around this area then? You're not gay, so that excludes me and any of the other men around here. There are several girls though, your type. Must be one of them.'' Sherlock broke off, looking at each of the woman on this side of the room, trying to figure it out before John told him.

''Wow… I mean, that was incredible, amazing… Completely amazing.'' John gawped at the man, he probably looked like an idiot but he couldn't bring himself to stop. He chose to ignore the questions in there, knowing he'd end up giving it away somehow.

''Really?'' Sherlock's eyes snapped back to John, eyeing him with suspicion. He'd expected shouting, a punch to the face. Definitely for John to storm off at the least.

''Yes, completely amazing. '' John repeated.

…...

Sorry it took a while to update, I had the flu. Really not a nice thing to have. And my brain would just not supply me with words.


	3. Chapter 3

Through some sort or miracle their first official conversation had actually gone rather well. Despite the few slips ups at the start anyway.

John collapsed onto his bed a grin still on his face, it had been there all evening but he couldn't seem to manage to pull any other form of facial expression. He and Sherlock had drunk, talked, laughed, and he had even walked John home. These thoughts only made John's grin larger, and he found himself smiling into a pillow.

At one point in the night Sherlock had asked to borrow his phone, John had practically thrown it at him. Not even bothering to ask why, or who the text was going to. For all he knew he could be texting someone who lived abroad and he'd end up with a ridiculously expensive phone bill. But John just couldn't care less, anything to make Sherlock happy.

God, he was smitten already. He knew he was even before they had spoken… but now? God, he couldn't stop thinking about him. Then the though struck his mind what if Sherlock was already in a relationship? What if that was who he was texting? He panicked and dug into his coat pocket pulling out his phone hoping Sherlock had kept the sent text in the sent box rather than deleting it. If it was too secret he would've right? John wasn't being nosey, not at all. Just checking something, he had to make sure Sherlock was unattached before he made a complete and utter fool of himself.

Knew you'd look, John. This is my number. –SH

John practically squealed, he was glad everyone had decided to stay out till late otherwise that would've been rather embarrassing. Sherlock had given him his number. He hadn't had to ask, hadn't had to make up some awkward excuse for getting it. Sherlock had given it to him, and in a rather clever way. Of course it would be in a clever way, it was Sherlock after all.

What was he doing analysing it? He had Sherlock Holmes number for goodness sake.

Ah, very clever. –JW

Oh, John. I was wondering how long it would take. –SH

I had to leave it for a little while, felt like an invasion of privacy otherwise. –JW

Yet you still looked? It appears your morals aren't as strong as you like to think. –SH

Hey! I was checking to see something I'd sent earlier. And I accidentally clicked on yours instead… -JW

You're lying through your teeth, John. –JW

Maybe, maybe. You could've just given it to me like a normal person. Imagine if I hadn't of looked? How would I have gotten in then? Eh? –JW

It was obvious you were going to look; you had been desperate to all night. What was it? Wanted to see what Sherlock Holmes gets up to?–SH

No, it wasn't like that at all. –JW

Oh? Would you care to explain, elaborate for me? –SH

You don't want to know. –JW

I just asked, John. I'm pretty sure that confirms that I wish to know what was the real motive behind your desperation to check who I'd been texting. –SH

You're not right all the time you know? –JW

I'd beg to differ. –SH

Nope, when you were doing that thing you do earlier. –JW

The thing I do? You mean deducing, yes?-SH

Yeah, that. You got something wrong. –JW

I don't recall any of that being wrong, you're going to have to share. –SH

You said I wasn't gay. –JW

Oh. –SH


	4. Chapter 4

'Oh. –SH'

John wouldn't admit it if asked, but he was rather proud of him self. He had reduced the great Sherlock Holmes to one word answers.

Sherlock sat on his bed twiddling his mobile around waiting for John to reply. He had never had him down for gay, in fact the amount of time he'd seen him around women, and going home with women he was sure he wasn't gay. Well he wasn't actually completely gay, he was quite obviously bisexual. But still, Sherlock wouldn't have even thought that.

John decided to put the man out of his misery, he typed out his reply and sat anxiously waiting.

Yes, I may appear to be constantly flirting with women but I have been with a man at one point. -JW

John had, had enough of sitting down so he decided it was a good idea to get up instead. Doing anything to try and distract himself, he made tea, he made his bed, and he even polished. Anything to distract himself from the current situation. Not because he was embarrassed, no not at all, it was more fear. Fear of Sherlock's reaction, maybe he'd figure everything out, figure out that he was coming onto him earlier. He heard his phone go off, and slowly made his way to the other side of the room, unlocking his phone. It was five minutes until he finally worked up the nerve and read the thing.

Oh, well that is surprising. Really, you've done well I don't think I've ever been this speechless before. –SH

Sherlock was telling the truth, he was honestly surprised. John was gay; he had even had an experience with a man before.

Weeks of watching the man and he had shown no signs of being attracted to men, not one. He never looked at anyone in the bar, never attempted to go home with a man. In fact the only time he'd ever seen him leave the pub with a bloke was earlier, and that was with him.

Oh. Him. Could it be? Perhaps, it was plausible. He'd been told if he wasn't such a prick he'd have had plenty of people lining up to date him. He crossed the room and walked into the bathroom examining himself in the mirror. He supposed he could see the appeal.

Yeah, well that's me. John 'surprise' Watson. –JW

Well that wasn't as bad as he'd expected he'd made up all sorts of scenarios in his head all completely farfetched, probably the reason none of them had actually happened. He smiled at his phone and all of a sudden felt like a teenager with a crush again.

Sherlock heard his phone go off; he took one last look at himself before leaving the bathroom.

He chuckled at the text, an actual chuckled. God, this was worse than he first thought. He was chuckling at written words, and to be fair it wasn't even that funny. Not funny at all really.

Anymore surprises? I quite enjoy them, sometimes. –SH

John had been staring at his screen for the past five minutes. What if Sherlock had decided to ignore him, god what if he'd figured everything out? No, John. Stop thinking, he might just be in the shower. He might have fallen asleep, it was late after all. Stop pining over him, you haven't even spoken past one conversation. He almost dropped his phone onto his face when he heard it go off; he caught it right at the last second luckily. It wouldn't look so good if he went into uni the next day with a black eye, would be a difficult situation to explain. 'Sorry, I was waiting for a text from the man I happen to want to shag. I got so excited when he texted back I dropped my phone on my face. Clumsy, huh?'

I suppose, maybe one or two. You may have to wait until I'm completely drunk to find out though. –JW

Sherlock smirked at the reply; he'd get them out of him one way or another. He was Sherlock Holmes; he could quite easily manipulate anyone to get his own way.

John, you're already rather drunk. You have quite excellent texting skills for a drunken man I might add. Go on, I can surprise you right back. –SH

Yes, that should work. A promise of a surprise, or rather a secret, it return for one of John's.

John stared at the screen for a while; he very much wanted to hear what Sherlock had to say. But did he really want to admit everything to him at this moment in time? Maybe it was just time to quite whilst he was ahead.

He'd formed what he was guessing a friendship with Sherlock, that's all he needed for now. If he admitted to everything it could go back to how it was before, them not speaking to each other. And John didn't want that, he enjoyed his company for too much. He wasn't prepared to lose it just yet, maybe one day, maybe when he was a lot drunker than he was now.

You first. –JW

Sherlock pondered the idea, maybe he could reveal a little something of himself it was common courtesy after all. He waited for about ten minutes before actually texting back. He actually felt nervous, something he'd never really experienced before.

I'm gay too. –SH

John had fallen asleep with his mobile in his hand, not even the text alert waking him up.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N - Long-time no see, I hope you all had a good Christmas and a wonderful new year! This was meant to be up a long, long time ago. But my laptop decided it needed to reset, and me being an idiot didn't bother to back it up. Meaning the chapters I'd already worked on were, well, deleted. And I couldn't work up the will-power to write them again. But I am back, and plan to update more regularly. Right, I'll shut up now. Onwards. Thank you for waiting, reviewing, and the favourites/followings. I'd glad you're enjoying it as much as I'm enjoying writing it! This is going to be a long chapter to make up for the whole missing 700 years of updating. (Ok, maybe that was an exaggeration, but shush)

/ /

Sherlock waited for at least 10 minutes until he began pacing the length of his bedroom, glad for the fact he didn't have to bare living with anyone. Because, well, he would've been told to shutup a long time ago.

An hour later he began to panic, what if John had set him up? What if John had just wanted him to admit he was gay so he could tell everyone? Just to result in him getting bullied more than he already was.

No, John was most definitely not like that. John was honest, John was caring, and he always tried to help anyone in any way he could.

He flopped down onto his bed with a groan; all of his thoughts were corrupted by John. He couldn't think straight, needed to get John out of his head. But those impossible blue eyes, that smile… He just couldn't think of anything else.

He ran through their earlier conversation, their texts. God, John was attracted to men. He'd admitted it; he still had the text to prove it. He'd always wanted to know, he'd always assumed him to be straight. But, no. He was wrong, completely and utterly wrong for probably the first time in his life.

He tried to sleep, just to stop thinking. But he couldn't he lay there for an hour with his eyes shut, but sleep refused to come. He huffed and looked up at the stark white ceiling. John still hadn't texted back, must've fallen asleep. He resisted the urge to text him multiple times, he didn't want to come across as a stalker.

John Bloody Watson did this to him night after night, tonight being no exception. Although this time it was a lot worse, because they'd actually had a conversation. And then of course the vital detail of his sexuality. John would probably never dare speak to him if he knew what he was about to do.

He clumsily undid the button and zip of his trousers, his button very almost being completely ripped off. And pulled his underwear down slightly, his cock being freed from the ridiculously tight trousers he insisted on wearing.

He had done this more than enough to know exactly what he likes, his thoughts always revolving around one person. The amount of fantasies he had about John was bordering on ridiculous.

He let out a soft groan as he wrapped his hand around his cock, his imagination telling him it was actually John's hand, he flicked his thumb over the tip precome already leaking from it. Substitute for lube which he had to intention of getting up to get. His strokes started off soft and slow, teasing himself almost. Soft moans escaping from his lips and he moved his hand faster, his back arching up off the bed. He pulled hard on his cock, tightening his grip, adding pressure to his touch, as his member throbbed in his hand. It wouldn't take long now, just a few more hard strokes, a few more thoughts of John.

He came with a loud scream of John's name, his hand still moving as he milked as much as he could from his orgasm. Again glad that he lived alone, if anyone walked in on him like this it would be awkward to say the least. His come all over his hand, covering part of his trousers. He groaned, and flopped an arm over his face. He felt dirty, he'd just masturbated over someone who was completely unaware.

He moved off the bed, walking to the bathroom stripping off his clothes and climbing into the shower. Groaning as the hot water cascaded down his back, washing away the filth.

/ /

When John woke up it was around 9am, he was glad he had no lectures today or else he would've already been extremely late.

He stretched, and grabbed his phone from the side. After remembering he'd fell asleep in the middle of his and Sherlock's conversation.

He didn't know what he was expecting, maybe a few texts to ask why he'd suddenly stopped. He only one though, part of him thinking maybe it wasn't even Sherlock. Maybe he'd gotten bored of him already.

He went to his inbox, his smile reappearing when he read the name. It was Sherlock. He opened it, eyes widening as he read.

Fancy a drink sometime? –JW

It was a bit vague considering he spent near enough all of his time in the bar, but he'd hope Sherlock would get the message.

/ /

Sherlock had been sitting cross legged on his bed since 7am, anxious as fuck he'd even resorted to going out to an all-night convenience store and buying a packet of cigarettes just to calm his nerves. The habit could usually wait, but this time it was needed. He very almost knocked himself out on the bedside table as he dived to get his phone. Ready to throw it out the window if it was anyone but John. It was 9 am, he'd had more than enough sleep.

Luckily it was John, so his phone was safe. The message could have two meanings.

Come out for a drink with me.

Would you like to come for a drink with me and the bunch of idiots I chose to spend my time with AKA John's friends.

/

It took him a bit of courage to text back, not wanting to sound too eager. Not wanting to make it obvious that he'd been sitting next to his practically all night waiting for a response.

With? –SH

Me you idiot. –JW

Just you? –SH

No, me and my mum. –JW

John, I do hope that was sarcasm. If not, I'll have to pass you up on the offer. –SH

Of course it was sarcasm; now just answer the fucking question. –JW

Yes, I would very much like to go for a drink with you. –SH

See, was that really that difficult? –JW

Shutup or I'll change my mind. –SH

No you wouldn't. –JW

When? –SH

Whenever you want. –JW

Tonight? If you're free that is. –SH

Tonight is fine, I'll see you later. –JW

/ /

Sherlock had never been this nervous in his whole entire life, in fact he'd wasn't quite sure he'd actually ever been nervous up until this point. He was even concerned with what he'd chosen to wear. In the end he went with the usual attire, not wanting it to appear as though he'd made a huge effort. He tried to tame his unruly curls with his hand as he walked to John's flat to no avail. They'd arranged a time since they'd texted. 8pm. He was determined to get there at exactly that time, not a minute late.

The time he thought was quite cruel really, he basically had to wait all day. He'd almost managed to blow up his kitchen. He should probably stop trying to do that experiment, it had resulted in the same way the last time.

He walked up the stairs to John's flat, thinking this building should definitely have some sort of security. A buzzer or a key.

He checked his watch. 7:59pm. He watched the hand tick round until it hit exactly eight pm, and knocked on John's door.

John flung the door open, a grin on his face. His flatmates had already gone out an hour ago, so he could invite Sherlock in.

''Hey, you're certainly good at time keeping.'' He chuckled, glancing at the wall clock it was exactly 8pm. ''Come in.''

Sherlock hummed in agreement, and stepped inside the flat closing the door softly behind him. He'd always imagined what it would be like inside John Watsons flat. He was aware he had two flatmates. Sarah and Mike, so not everything inside would be his but it was still easy to identify his possessions.

John poked his head around his bedroom door, just to make sure Sherlock hadn't changed his mind and fled. To his relief he hadn't. ''There's beer in the fridge, take one if you want. I need to finish getting ready. Obviously not as good with time as you.'' He closed his bedroom door, and pulled on a fresh pair of jeans.

Sherlock did as he was told, and walked over to the fridge. Much different from his fridge, food instead of body parts. Odd. He took a beer, and located the bottle opener in the draw. He took a swig. Not his usual, but it would suffice.

John walked back out of the bedroom dressed, and ready. Flashing a smile in Sherlock's direction.

Sherlock gave a small smile in return, finishing the beer and leaving the bottle on the kitchen side. Not entirely sure why they were even going to a pub. John obviously had enough drink in the fridge, and if he was being completely honest he didn't really want to share him.

''Where to?'' John asked, shoving his keys and wallet in his back pocket.

Sherlock shrugged, and slid up onto the kitchen side. Hoping it was obvious he didn't wish to leave, well not just yet.

''Or…. We can both sit on the kitchen side. If that's what you'd prefer.'' He chuckled, walking over to his fridge and pulling out two beers. Glad he'd gone shopping earlier in the day. He passed one to Sherlock, the other for himself.

''Pub's boring, too loud.'' Sherlock smirked at getting his own way, he took the bottle opener from beside him opening his own. Wrapping his hand around the hand John was holding the beer with, and opening his also. He could've obviously quite given him the bottle opener, but there would be no fun in that.

John smiled at the small touch, and thanked him before drinking half of the beer in one go. ''So, Sherlock. Why have you never spoken to me before, you're practically in there everynight!''

Sherlock shrugged, and placed his bottle next to the already empty one. ''You're older, you already have a group of people surrounding you.'' Sherlock was already admitting more than he'd like to.

''I didn't have you down for being bothered about other people. I'm sure you could have quite easily caught my attention if you'd tried.'' Sherlock had already caught his attention, but he thought it better to leave out the whole 'I touch myself over you' part. He was sure he flushed even at the thought.

Sherlock traced the rim of the bottle absentmindedly, and glanced up. He noted John's colour, and chuckled. ''You're blushing.''

John pouted, and ducked his head to attempt to hide it. ''Shutup.''

''Why would I it's cu-'' Sherlock cut himself off, realising what he'd very almost said.

''It's what, Sherlock?'' John grinned, knowing just what the boy was going to say. ''Cute is it?'' He teased.

Now it was Sherlock's time the blush, his cheeks tinged with scarlet. Ducking his head. ''Yes, John. It's cute, would you like your ego stroked anymore?''

John chuckled, and lifted Sherlock's head. ''Sherlock, can I tell you something?'' The drink was already going to his head, well, he had already drunk five before Sherlock had arrived. Just to calm his nerves.

Sherlock leaned into the touch, and swallowed down the lump in his throat. ''Yes…'' He answered cautiously.

''I've noticed you before, I've noticed you a lot.'' His voice seemed to drop an octave as he was speaking.

''I-I.. Go on.'' Sherlock stuttered, desperate to hear what John had to say next.

''How could I not notice you? You're gorgeous, all flawless skin, and cheekbones.'' He purred, edging closer. Maybe getting drunk before they'd even gone out wasn't the best of ideas.

Sherlock was lost for words, none of his thoughts coherent, so he highly doubted his words were going to be. ''John…'' was all he managed to get out, his voice barely above a whisper.

He took that for confirmation, and well, the fact he wasn't pulling away was a good sign. He closed the gap between them, pressing his lips softly to Sherlock's.

/ /

I must admit I wanted to get this up as quickly as possible, so I didn't really read through it. So there will most likely be mistakes, that I will sort out a later date. I ended it at a horrible point, I know. MWAAAHAHA. I mean, I'll update as quickly as possible.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N - Told you I'd get it up quickly! Well quickly for me.

/ /

Sherlock froze, completely. Didn't breath, didn't move, and in no way responded to John's lips on his. It wasn't that Sherlock hadn't done this before, his past full of moments like this. But no one was ready to hear about his past, especially John someone he actually cared a great deal about.

John pulled away, a frown on his lips. He pulled off the kitchen side. God, he'd been stupid to ever think Sherlock could be interested in him in that way.

''I'm s-sorry, I was just drunk.'' He murmured, trying to blame his embarrassment on drink.

Sherlock nodded. Drunk. That was all; John was drunk, completely unaware of what he was doing. Why would John ever be interested in him? He was the freak, and he was wrong to think John would've thought any differently.

He slipped off the kitchen side, wishing he would have taken the option of going to the pub. At least then he may have still had been able to look John in the eye.

John was of course primarily embarrassed, but part of him hurt. He was sure he'd read the signs right, sure Sherlock was interested in him.

Sherlock took a step forwards, a hand on John's shoulder. ''Look..Jo-''

He was cut off by John's own words. ''Just go home.'' He shrugged his shoulder away, and turned back to the fridge to grab another beer. He may as well drown his sorrows, not that there was ever any sort of answer at the bottom of the bottle.

Sherlock opened his mouth to argue, but thought better against it. He trusted John, for some reason, but wasn't yet ready to divulge him in his past.

He grabbed his coat and paused at the door. ''I'm sorry… Bye, John.''

/ /

It had been a week since John had tried to kiss him, a week since they'd last spoken. There had been no texts, calls, emails. Just nothing, a complete silence from the other man.

He had a reason to be angry, Sherlock had shown all the signs he was interested. He was interested, just not yet ready to admit to himself he was able to care for one person. And there were no reason behind it, no motives.

He still went to the pub every night, just to see if he could catch a glimpse of John.

But he never turned up, he stopped going completely. He stayed inside his flat, whilst his two flat mates and their friends left him alone.

He was desperate to text him, but he had to show some restrain. If John wanted to talk to him, he'd text him first. That's what he kept telling himself, that's what stopped him from any interaction on his part.

/ /

John had be hauled up in his flat all week, mostly his bedroom so no one had to witness how much of a wreck he'd become over one fucking stupid arse of a person.

He'd refused to go out to the pub, there was huge risk Sherlock would be there and he couldn't face him. Just couldn't face the embarrassment. He was sure he'd read it right, Sherlock had edged closer to him, practically held his hand for goodness sakes! He'd never seen him that friendly with anyone before.

He wanted so desperately to text him, call him, see him. But he stopped himself, kept telling himself _if Sherlock wanted to talk to you he'd text you. You texting him first will just make you look desperate. _

_You've only talked to him once, pull yourself together. Plenty more fish in the see and all that_. But even John Watson's own thoughts weren't helping him, if anything they were just making it worse.

He pulled his phone from his pocket, with no intention of doing what he actually wanted to do. Instead he just scrolled through old texts; there were even signs in the texts. Why hadn't he responded, why had he left?

He sighed, and locked his phone. It was doing him no good, making him feel worse than he already was in fact. It was getting late now; nearing 11pm. Sarah and Mike would be home soon, he'd just pretend he was asleep to stop them trying to ask questions again.

/ /

After two weeks of pining for someone he could quite easily have, if he just apologised about the sudden non responsiveness, he finally texted.

John, can we talk? –SH

John heard his phone go off, and reluctantly plucked it from his jean pocket. His phone had gone of plenty of times this week, each time a part of him expected it to be Sherlock Holmes it never was of course.

But this time, oh, it actually was.

About? –JW

You know what about, please, just let me explain. –SH

Explain how I made an idiot of myself, I'd rather not. –JW

John, I won't ask you again. –SH

Fine, fine. Mike and Sarah are in, and I doubt you wish to discuss it in front of them. –JW

Not particularly no, mine? – SH

I do not know where you live. –JW

I'll meet you outside the pub, 10 minutes. –SH

Fine, see you then. –JW

/ /

To say John was nervous was an understatement; he'd arrived at the pub the second the text came through. He had time for a quick pint before he headed back outside, sitting on one of the benches.

Sherlock came around the corner looking gorgeous as usual; John could never get tired of that face. He offered him a small smile, before standing up and walking to meet him.

''Hey.'' He was planning to put on a mask, just like he did. But it completely crumbled whilst face to face.

''Afternoon.'' Sherlock returned the smile, and briskly walked in the direction of his flat. ''It's only five minutes away.''

John nearly broke out into a jog just trying to catch up with him, Sherlock legs went on forever, whilst his not so much. By the time they actually reached his flat he had to pause by the door for breath.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, and let out a lengthy sigh. Before getting bored of waiting for him to catch his breath and pulling him inside.

It took him by surprise and he almost managed to trip over the doorstep, but he regained his composure once he was inside. ''This… is…''

John really couldn't think of a word to describe it there was clutter everywhere. Newspaper clippings, magazines spread all over the living room floor. Chemicals, and vials all over the wooden kitchen table. ''Nice.'' He finished with.

''What? Oh… it's only temporary so it will do.'' Sherlock shrugged and took of his scarf and coat hanging them over the already packed coat-stand.

John nodded and made his way to the sofa, trying to move any of the paper with his feet. He flopped down onto the sofa crossing his legs under himself, looking up anxiously at Sherlock. Just wanting nothing more than an answer, explanation.

Sherlock shuffled over the room, taking the seat next to John. He'd been building himself up to this for two weeks so there was no time for tea, or niceties. He'd bottle it otherwise, and then John would never know.

''John…'' He started, quickly faltering. It was a mistake to look him directly in the eye. He moved his hand across the sofa, taking John's hand in his.

John squeezed lightly not daring to let go.

Sherlock averted his eyes their hands, swallowing the lump around his throat. ''When I was in school… I, well, was bullied rather badly as you can expect. I guess you've seen how bad it can get here, and they're not nearly as immature as the students that attended my school.''

He coughed to clear his throat and started again.

''And when it got to my last year, I'd decided I'd had enough of it. I just started going to all the school parties… and well, to put it crudely, I slept with anyone who would take me. Man or Woman. Just to feel better about myself, because at one point I really did care what people thought of me… now, not so much. The bullies stop, because they knew I wouldn't go near them if they continued. I was considered what do they say? The schools slut, but I was rather good at it. Could reduce people to mere moans in seconds…''

Sherlock trailed up and looked up at John, just to make sure he wasn't disgusted, if he was still looking. John nodded as a sign to continue.

''And well… Like I said the bullying completely stopped, and I was like that for a year. I think I slept with at least 50 people. The whole year near enough. But then when I got to university, I stopped. I haven't slept with anyone for months, I felt so shit about myself. That I had to sleep with people to get them to like me, and I didn't want university to be like that. So I just stopped giving a shit about what people thought… And then when you kissed me the other day, I was confused because I'd never actually done anything sexual with someone I cared about. I didn't want to do anything wrong, I wanted it to be perfect. I didn't want it to be a drunken mistake, well on your part anyways.'' Sherlock finished, and prepared himself for John to run, or to shout out at him.

To his surprise neither of those happened, he felt John's arms wrap around him. He instantly let himself relax, let himself sob into the man's shoulder. He regretted that last year, but it'd always be there to remind him that he really didn't deserve anyone.

He especially really did not deserve someone like John Watson.

/ /

A/N -I didn't want to cram anything else into that chapter, John's reaction coming next.

/

uickly! Well quickly for me


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